


stars lining your ribcage, i swallow 'em whole

by wildeblackseoul



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, PWP, Racebending, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-25
Updated: 2012-11-25
Packaged: 2017-11-19 13:45:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/573908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildeblackseoul/pseuds/wildeblackseoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>but the galaxies that are nestled between them burst into fireworks (at least, that’s how it goes for stiles whenever his eyes fix upon that dopey smile)</p>
<p>self-indulgent scott-centric skittles porn</p>
            </blockquote>





	stars lining your ribcage, i swallow 'em whole

**Author's Note:**

> because i'm an asshole who plays with sandboxes and craves for more POC representation on my fave shows, i only see [osric chau](http://blackdalsoon.tumblr.com/post/34008764873/racebending-casting-teen-wolf) as stiles stilinski. originally found [here](http://blackdalsoon.tumblr.com/post/34078334672/you-still-got-me-stiles-gasps-reaching-for)

“You still got me,” Stiles gasps, reaching for Scott’s face, fingers clutching at him, a thumb smoothing over the skin under his burning amber eyes. Scott closes his eyes, his chest heaving, muscles contracting. The legs wrapped around him tighten and tremble, and the air shifts around them.

“I know,” Scott responds quickly in a single breath, burying himself as close to the body in front of him, as if he can seep into the pores and crevices and just settle there, safe and sound, because as much as the years have passed and people - both allies and foes - come and go, this is Scott’s constant, this is what Scott fights for.

“I know,” Scott whispers against the collarbone he clamps his mouth over, leaving a trail of purple and pink against the mole-dusted skin.

“I know,” Scott whispers into Stiles’ flushed cheek, watching those wet lips part when he changes the angle of his hips, rearranges himself so he can run a clammy hand over the space between skin and buzzed hairline.

“Fuck,” Stiles hisses, grits his teeth, wrings and digs his fingers into Scott’s shoulders until bits of his nails produce angry red lines that run down the length of Scott’s sides, the bumps of his ribs glistening with blood. Nosing at the area under Stiles’ ear, Scott groans, and pushes until they’re awkwardly positioned against the headboard, half splayed on it, knees buckling and elbows knocking.

They kiss with a gentleness that makes Scott shiver at first, but then Stiles fastens his teeth on Scott’s bottom lip, and his heart suffers through palpitations that Scott’s certain Stiles can feel and hear and taste just from the proximity.

“You had me before,” Stiles whines against Scott’s cheek, gulping for air, the unspoken apology laced between his words.

Yellow eyes fluttering closed, Scott holds Stiles so tight he can hear the creak of bone, and Stiles remains silent.


End file.
